


Always Running (To You)

by BansheeLydia



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Actor Jackson Whitemore, Alternate Universe, Car Accidents, Fluff, Getting Back Together, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Minor Injuries, Post-Break Up
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-16
Updated: 2017-01-16
Packaged: 2018-09-18 00:15:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,231
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9353111
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BansheeLydia/pseuds/BansheeLydia
Summary: He knew, logically, that Jackson wouldn’t deliberately get in a car crash and considering how big of a stick he had up his ass when it came to his car, he doubted the accident was Jax’s fault, either. But it was easier to be mad at him than to face the other feelings: the fear and worry and guilt and, the hardest to face, love.





	

“Stupid goddamn jackass with his stupid freaking Porsche -.”

Stiles slammed on his brakes just as the light hit red and gripped his steering wheel white-knuckled tight, teeth gritted together. 

He knew, logically, that Jackson wouldn’t _deliberately_ get in a car crash and considering how big of a stick he had up his ass when it came to his car, he doubted the accident was Jax’s fault, either. But it was easier to be mad at him than to face the _other_ feelings: the fear and worry and guilt and, the hardest to face, love. 

The light switched to green and Stiles took off, trying not to push the speed limit. He’d been taken off guard when he first got the call, surprised that he was even still listed as Jackson’s emergency contact. That had given way to fear when he realized why he was being called and he’d just managed to take in the few details they’d given him before he was taking the afternoon off work and running out to his jeep.

It felt like an eternity before he finally got to the hospital. He was gestured straight through and he practically skidded into Jackson’s room, heart in his throat.

Jackson was sat up in his hospital bed. There was a graze on his chin, but he otherwise looked completely healthy; his stupid thick rimmed glasses that absolutely did not make Stiles want to kiss him senseless were perched on his nose and he was tapping away at his laptop, but he looked up when Stiles barged in, blinking once.

“Uh…hi.”

“You _asshole_!”

Jackson’s eyebrows rose at Stiles’ outburst and he closed his laptop, sitting back. But he didn’t speak, just watched Stiles pace the small room in short, sharp steps, pushing his hands through his hair.

“You – we haven’t spoken in _months_ , Jackson, _months_! And then I get a call because you’ve got yourself in a freaking _car accident_ and you’re in hospital and I - why do you even still have me as your emergency contact?! It’s been _eight months_.”

“I’m sorry.” Jackson said quietly, which was exactly the last thing Stiles ever expected to hear. He stared and after a moment, Jackson shrugged, voice even as he continued, “I probably should have changed my emergency contact, but I couldn’t bring myself to do it. I…I guess I just wouldn’t want anyone but you with me if I landed myself in hospital.”

The admission shook Stiles to the core. He rocked back on his heels, mouth opening and closing a few times before he sighed, shoulders sagging as all the fight completely drained from him. He slumped down into the hideous plastic chair next to the bed.

“I’m sorry for shouting at you. I mean, are you okay? What happened?”

“Some moron ran a red light at a junction and T-boned me. The Porsche is totalled, but I’m okay. A few bumps and bruises, but nothing that won’t heal.”

Stiles nodded. He couldn’t take his gaze off Jackson’s face. He still looked the same – unshaven and maybe a little tired, but the same old Jackson. With his messy bed hair and his glasses, he looked just like he did the last time Stiles saw him, when they met up to return one another’s belongings. Stiles felt just like he felt that time, too; angry and disappointed and sad, but still as in love with the asshole as he was in the beginning of their relationship.

He didn’t know what to say. He was still completely derailed by Jackson’s honesty. He leaned back in the chair, folding his arms.

“I guess,” he started, voice soft as he offered an admission of his own, “The reason I shouted is because the thought of anything happening to you goddamn terrifies me, Jackson.”

Jackson smiled, but it was a sad one. “You’re the one who broke up with me, Stiles. You walked out, not me. I begged you to stay.”

The reminder hurt. Stiles picked at a loose thread on his jeans, breathing past the fresh heartbreak. It had been agony, making the decision he did, to walk out when Jackson had been on his knees and pleading with him to stay. But he’d had to. Jackson wouldn’t change, and Stiles couldn’t carry on in a relationship where he spent half the time feeling second best.

“I know.” He said quietly. “But you didn’t give me much choice.”

Jackson frowned. “You never told me why, Stiles. That’s what really sucks.” He sighed, taking his glasses off and rubbing at the bridge of his nose. “Thank you for coming to check on me, I really appreciate it. But maybe you should go.”

Stiles almost did. He almost stood and walked away, just like he’d done eight months away. But as he stared at Jackson, it occurred to him that he was right; he’d never truly sat down and spoken to Jackson about how he felt. And he shouldn’t have been feeling like that in the first place, but he never gave his partner a chance to fix things, to work on their relationship. 

If he left now, that would be it, and now he’d seen Jackson again – seen him, not the Jackson Whittemore in the tabloids or on social media – he couldn’t bring himself to walk away again. 

“Your career always came first.” He said quietly. “And I got it, for a while. You spent so much time, you gave _everything_ you had to get where you wanted in life. But all the missed dinners, the nights I spent alone, the constant feeling of being second best to your career…it got too much.”

Jackson shook his head. “Stiles…you’re my everything. I wouldn’t be where I am without you. Everything I’ve achieved, I have you to thank for. You’re the only person who didn’t look at me and assume I walked into my career because of my family’s money and connections. You’re the only person who truly gets how hard I’ve worked to get here, because you’ve been there right beside me. I love my career, but I love you more. You could never come second to my career. Never.”

Stiles leaned forward. “Love?” He asked softly. “Present tense?”

Jackson nodded. “Always.” He reached out, letting the tips of his fingers touch Stiles’ on the edge of the blanket. “I’m sorry I made you feel like that. We can work on it, I promise. You come first. Just…please, Stiles.”

“Yeah,” Stiles said roughly, then, firmer, “Yeah. Fuck, Jackson, I missed you so much.” He stood, leaning down to finally kiss Jackson, like he’d been wanting to do since he entered the room. “I love you.”

Jackson grinned. “Think you call pull that curtain around and join me?”

He laughed. “Yeah, no. We don’t want that in the news.”

“I don’t know. The hotel elevator incident wasn’t so bad.” Jackson gripped the back of his neck, kissing him firmly.

Stiles ended up with Jackson on the bed, just cuddling and swapping the occasional soft kiss. He smiled, so happy he could hardly contain it, and when he glanced at Jackson, he was grinning too.

“I’m still gonna take a picture of you in that ugly hospital gown and post it online.”

Jackson snorted. “Please. I look fucking fantastic and you know it.”

Stiles kissed his cheek, smiling. “Yeah. Yeah, you do.”

**Author's Note:**

> I'm currently accepting prompts at allirica.tumblr.com


End file.
